


Flavoured Favours

by Bex (orphan_account)



Category: Hat Films - Fandom, Hatfilms, The Yogscast
Genre: Hat Films, Hatfilms - Freeform, Hatslash, Kinks, M/M, NSFW, Sex Shop AU, Slash, Yogslash, smornby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2016-04-19
Packaged: 2018-05-06 23:06:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5434223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Bex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Smith should really learn to read the T’s and C’s before roping Ross into doing overtime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Odd Jobs

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is, the fist smutty offering from TDETD for your reading pleaseure.
> 
> Feedback encouraged! We want to know what you think!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross and Smith find themselves a strange promotion.

Sometimes in life, things do not go according to plan. By this time in his life Ross had always assumed he would be doing his time as a runner for some arsehole director in preparation of making his way up the ranks in some production company or another. Yet here he was, Twenty three years old and trying to scrape by on a part time wage working at an electricals retailer and sharing a flat with one of his best friends who was, quite frankly, regretting his own career choices.  
️  
Smith was sick of being paid a pittance for so much work, he could have made as much money working retail and actually been able to have some time off once in awhile but he was stuck where he was. He couldn’t quit, no matter how many times he wanted to tell his boss where to shove his job, he couldn’t back to his parents with his tail between his legs and he couldn’t abandon Ross.

Chris Trott hadn’t fared much better after his time at uni, his degree not being utilised as he worked odd jobs and tried to keep his head above water. ‘Work’ was quite a loose term for what he did most of the time, being employed by Sips was a strange mixture of personal assistant and unemployment, having to rely on the other man, who was so laid back he was practically horizontal, for instructions could mean he did nothing for weeks at a time.

 

The call from Sips was its usual confusing affair, bored monotone telling Trott to meet him at an address just outside of the main downtown area of the city with no explanation or details on what the hell he should do when he arrived or how long it would take.

Trott was surprised he managed to keep a straight face as Sips talked him through the new venture, a _sex shop_. It was so ridiculous but somehow perfect and Sips wanted him to manage it, to be the one in charge whilst Sips carried on with his other projects and business’.

Roping Ross in to help was easy, a full time job that paid more than minimum wage was more than the dark haired man could resist. Smith was harder to convince, still labouring under the hope that his current job would open doors for him in the future but giving in after a particularly bad week where he finally blurted out, in a rage born of frustration, what he really thought of his boss to his face and found himself unemployed.

 

Weeks rolled by, days spent laughing at dramatic readings of some of the more ridiculous erotic novels, and lightsabre battles with the larger dildos as the three friends somehow made more and more profit every day with the help of Smith's marketing skills to advertise Sips’ new venture to the world.

 

“What've you got there, Trotty?” Smith asked after swallowing half a bottle of water, screwing the cap on as he peered over Trott’s shoulder at what he was typing on his phone. The brunet waved his hand dismissively, and sighed.

“Advertisements. _No one_ wants to do this damn job for us.”

“Another one?” Smith throws the empty bottle into the bin, and smirks when it falls in. Trott locks his phone then runs a hand through his hair.

“We need a couple, for a-” He pauses, and looks up at his friend-come-employee with a strange look. “I was gonna tell you later. Leave it for a while, yeah?” Smith doesn't bother answering, because Trott’s already getting his keys out as he walks towards the door. Smith, used to this, only rolls his eyes and slumps down behind the till.

“Trott gone again?” Ross calls from the back, bringing a box out and heading for the shelves. Smith hums, and picks up Trott’s ‘work phone’ - a shitty, smashed up Samsung, ghosting fingers over the barely visible keys.

“Do you know his password, mate?” Smith asks looking towards the dark haired man.

Ross places the box on the floor near the back of the room before coming up to stand next to Smith. “eight, double zero, eight.” Ross answers.

“How'd you know?” Smith chuckled, before scrolling through the emails Trott had been slaving over all day, all starting with ‘Couples wanted’

Ross shrugged. “Been the same since uni.”

Smith snorted a laugh. “His PIN number for his bank is ‘boob’?

Ross shrugged and returned Smith’s grin. “What are you looking for on there, anyway?” Ross queried.

“He said he'd talk to us about whatever it is, but it's more work, apparently. Might be able to get us a bit more cash.” Smith says, and nods as he sees the sum at the bottom of the page. There had been chunks of text that he didn't bother reading. “See? We could get paid… twice as much as we already do!”

Ross frowns, but perks up when Smith shows him the numbers. “Why does it have to be couples?” He asks, and Smith rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“Might be heavy lifting, getting stock from A to B. He probably just means _pairs_.” Smith smiles, jumping out of his seat, locking the phone and walking over to the shelves. “You need help with these?” Smith calls, picking up what Ross had left, while the brunet frowns at the phone.

“... Yeah,” Ross answers, “If we can get more money in, that would be good, why do you think he hasn't asked us?” He looks up from the screen, up to where Smith has turned around to look at his colleague oddly.

\---

“About the ad.” Trott sits down across from them, hands bunched together. Smith smiles.  
“Me and Ross will do it, mate.”

Trott regards the taller man for a moment. “Are- Are you sure?”

Smith nods. “Yeah, we read the emails and I have no idea why you didn't just ask us in the first place?”

“It’s for couples, Smith, and you two-”

“We’re a perfectly good team!” Smith laughs a little too enthusiastically, and wraps an arm around Ross’ neck quickly. Ross chuckles quietly, and agrees.

Trott looks at them ridiculously, waving a finger from face to face. “ _You two_? Why the hell didnt you tell me?” Shaking his head at the two other men he reaches down and pulls a box out of a drawer. “This is the first one, you might as well go home now and get started. It’s late, I can close up the shop.”

Smith laughs and nods, taking the box.

“You two are amazing. Congratulations, too!” He says, before tugging his coat on and standing up.

Ross raises an eyebrow. “Why would we start at home, Trott? I thought the ad was for-”

“Well you can’t do it here. _Unsanitary_.” Trott makes a face, and only adds to Ross’ confusion.

Smith springs out of his chair, holding the box to his chest and pulling on Ross’ sleeve. “Stop questioning the boss you twat, we get to go home early.” He says gesturing to Trott with a tilt of the head.

 

Ross isn't sure why he got such an ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach as he regarded the plain box on the table. It wasn’t a big box, no bigger than a shoe box, really, but something about it unsettled him to no end.

“I got the scissors.” Smith announces throwing himself down into one of the chairs and running the blade along the edges of the package.

Ross sits opposite, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Why does it smell like strawberries?” He asks as a sickly sweet smell wafts over from the now open box.

Smith’s eyebrows furrow as he eyes the contents, his hand slowly reaching inside with hesitation.

Ross frowns. “What is it?” He doesn't move, hoping that Smith will hold up whatever is inside the package. His leg bouncing in anticipation.

“It's one of the multipacks that go in the corner.”

As soon as the words leave Smith’s mouth, Ross’ goes dry.

_Why did Trott give them those?_

Smith holds up the ‘multipack’ box of flavoured condoms with two fingers, like it’s a dead animal. He looks at it like it will pounce on him at any moment. Ross licks his lips habitually, before pulling the larger box towards himself. Smith places the condoms down and blinks heavily, staring at the bigger box fearfully. Ross digs around, only finding more.

Everything is either strawberry flavoured or scented, and it was taking over his senses. It was all man-made, obviously not natural, and the scent reminded him of cheap cake icing.

He lays out the boxes and bottles on the table in front of them, and sits back. Smith hasn't moved since opening the box.

“What have you _done_?!” Ross exclaims, eyes wide. “What the _fuck_ have you told Trott?”

Smith holds his hands up in surrender. “I didn't tell him anything, I have no idea what the hell is going on here either!”

“Well I hope to God that this was a mistake and he was supposed to leave us some fucking _tea_ or something.” Ross mumbles, and reaches for the box again, pulling it in front of him and pulling out a sheet of white paper.

Ross’ eyes scan the words printed on the note, a pink tinge creeping up his neck onto his face. “What does it say?” Smith asks trying to lean closer to the other man to read it.

Ross wets his lips and swallows before clearing his throat and reading aloud. “Please find enclosed the product evaluation survey to be completed once thorough testing of each product has been completed. All evaluations should be completed and posted back using the stamped and addressed envelope provided. Any excess product is yours to dispose of or use as you please.”

“We have to test condoms.” Ross concludes, and puts the paper down. Smith leans back into the sofa cushions and rubs his temples.

“Is there any way around this?” Smith asks, and Ross would be lying if he said that he didn't feel slight offence.

“Posh wank?” Ross supplies, reading the ‘evaluation survey’ and feeling his stomach flip at some of the questions.

“Why would we wank in pairs?” Smith scoffs, but quickly shushes himself as Ross gasps.

“Tightness?” Smith says, reading over his shoulder.

“Taste!” Ross squeaks, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth.

“Are we…” Smith licks his lips, and Ross can't remember the last time he heard him so monotonous. “We’ve done stuff before mate, we can do this…”

Ross recalls the lonely nights with a shake of his head. "We’ve never even sucked each other off, Smith!"

“Ross, we’re _adults_. This is just for work. If anything, we get paid for it. And to be fair it could be a _lot_ worse.” Smith says, seemingly regarding the situation maturely. An endless stream of scenarios raged through the taller man’s head, involving both of them in a variety of positions completely contradicting his statement.

Ross closes his mouth and breathes slowly for a moment. “Fine.” His soft breathing interrupted by Smith gathering the contents of the box back into the package, and standing up, tugging at Ross’ sleeve with the other hand.

“Your room or mine, mate?” Smith asks quietly, not looking at the other man.

“Yours. Mine’s a single,” Ross says, regretting the last few words he added, and Smith nods before heading to the stairs. Ross trails after him, kicking his shoes off at the foot of the stairs before taking two steps at a time to catch up with Smith.

Smith stands awkwardly in the empty space at the foot of the double bed as Ross enters the room and pushes the door closed with a quiet ‘click’.

“How do we go about this?” Smith asks, voice hushed in the quietness of his room. Ross transfers his weight from one foot to the other slowly, swaying slightly before stepping towards Smith.

“We’ve done it before, mate.”

“Not like this.” Smith smiles softly. Ross feels something twist in his stomach.

Ross takes a deep breath and reaches for one of the small bottles. “This is just massage oil, we could start with this?” He questions, voice somehow steady despite the erratic beating of his heart.

Smith nods his head and runs his tongue over his teeth. “So, who gets to..?” Smith asks, voice trailing off as Ross steps into his personal space, tugging the hem of Smith’s T shirt up.

Smith raises his arms as Ross tugs the green fabric over his head. Ross’s sharp intake of breath at Smith’s toned chest is barely heard over the pounding of Smith’s heart against his ribcage. “On your front, on the bed.” Ross tells the other man.

Smith does so, and hopes Ross can't hear his pulse from where he’s standing. Smith liked the way Ross was taking control. It was the bossy side that only he ever got to see.

Ross kneels on the bed next to the other man, uncapping the oil with a flick of his thumb and running his eyes over the slope of Smith’s back with interest. Ross upturns the bottle, oil immediately gushing out onto smooth skin.

“Fuck!” Smith shouts, bucking away from the sensation. “That’s fucking cold.”

Ross pushes back off the bed, feet hitting the floor and making him stumble. “You’re getting it all over the bed!”

“You couldn't have warmed it in your hand for a bit?” Smith complains.

“I haven't used this shit before Smith, I have no idea what I am doing.” Ross admits, losing any of the confidence he had been faking before. “Fuck’s sake, you do it!” Ross says after a few moments, wiping the oil on his jeans.

Smith pushes himself up onto all fours, snatching the bottle of oil from next to him and gesturing to the bed for Ross to lie down.

Ross tugs his shirt off and lays down, resting his cheek against his arm as the bed shifts under him with Smith’s movements.

Smith, careful not to pour out too much, empties some of the oil into his free hand before rubbing both hands together and leaning over Ross to place them on his pale shoulders.

“That alright?” Smith asked, working his thumbs in small circles.

Ross hums a reply, and breathes deeply. “It smells really nice, too.”

Smith applies more pressure, egged on by the soft, relaxed breathing of the man beneath him.

Ross jolts slightly when Smith rubs over a spot underneath his shoulder blades, and bites his lip.

“You have a knot mate, I can try and get it out if you like?”

Ross nods, burying his face further into the duvet.

Hands on Ross’ shoulders, Smith leans on to him, throwing a knee over Ross to straddle his waist. “It might hurt a bit.” He warns, running his hands up from the base of the other man's back up to his shoulders in one continuous movement before concentrating on working the knot out of Ross’ back.

“Fuck, Smith, God.” Ross twists his back, relishing the click of bones, the pain being soothed by more of the circles Smith continues to knead into his back.

Smith takes a sharp intake of breath as Ross bucks into him, not sure if he is hoping that Ross did or didn't notice something hard digging into the small of his back. “Sorry.” Smith mumbles, trying to raise himself on his knees a little.

Ross rubs his face against his arm before turning his head as far as it can go to look at the other man, only managing to catch a small glimpse. “It feels amazing, you’re really good at it.” Ross groans, seemingly ignoring the real reason Smith was apologising.

“Was this your old job?” Ross asks, mewling quietly when Smith rubs at a good spot.

Smith smirks to himself. “I’m just good with my hands mate.”

“Is that a promise?” Ross asks, relaxation making his mouth work without filter.

“Maybe.” Smith says, and shifts down to straddle the backs of Ross’ knees. He starts rubbing softly at Ross’ hips and to the small of his back. Ross is able to move around slightly, now, and uses it to his advantage; turning to see Smith’s lip in between his teeth and his eyes focused on his hands’ movements.

“What else do we need to test in the box?” Ross questions, catching Smith’s eye when he looks up from his task to answer.

“Lube and condoms.”

Ross’ eyes widen. “Have you ever…?” Ross asks, voice trailing off as Smith rises to his knees and climbs off him.

“Not whilst sober.” Smith admits.

“Which?” Ross asks gently. “Like, given or…?”

“Yes Ross, I have taken it up the arse.” Smith sighs, getting to the point of the question that Ross was struggling to ask.

“Okay, okay.” Ross nods, pink dusting over his cheeks.

“Have you?” Smith asks, reaching for the condoms.

Ross shakes his head. “I haven't done anything with a guy except you before.”

“Should I go slow?” Smith asks, and Ross sits up, facing Smith.

“Please.” Ross whispers into the silence of the room. If he was honest with himself, he'd admit to the daunting feeling that the lack of noise added to his already nervous state. Smith looked down at Ross when he avoided moving, looking down at his hands.

“What's wrong?” Smith asks, and sits down as he traces his fingers over the ring in the foil, reeking of faux strawberry. Ross smiles when he looks up.

“Just… Nervous.”

“Ross, we’ve done this before.” He says, and flashes a small smile. Not the one he used when he wants something, or when he's trying to impress someone. A natural smile. Ross mirrors it and pats his hand against Smith’s forearm.

“Can we put some music on or something?” Ross asks quietly.

Smith nods at him, considering making a joke about putting on something with a heavy beat to set the rhythm but stops himself at the panicked look in Ross’ eyes and instead throws on one of his more chilled out playlists, setting the volume low.

Smith pulls off his socks as he makes his way back towards the bed, hopping on one foot then the other and throwing the discarded clothes into the corner of the room.

Ross followed suit, pulling his socks off his feet and looking up at the sound of Smith’s belt clinking as the taller man unbuckles and let his jeans drop to the floor.

“You’re gonna need to take those off,” Smith comments, pulling at the leg of Ross’ jeans with a smirk.

Ross stands, fingers fumbling with the button on his jeans. soft music fills the silence in the room, some old soul song that Ross doesn't know the name of. Smith sings along under his breath, the low rumble of it calming the dark haired man more than he would ever admit.

Smith grimaces as he picks up the lube and flicks the lid to take a sniff. “We’ll, at least your arse is gonna smell nice for a while.” He comments, trying to ease some of the tension.

Ross barks a laugh. “Where do you want me?” He asks, pushing his jeans and boxers off his hips and down his legs in one smooth movement.

Smith pulls the duvet off the bed, shoving it onto the floor and patting the centre of the mattress. “On your knees, facing the headboard mate.”

Ross bobs his head in a small nod, climbing onto the bed and leaning back on his heels as Smith pushes his boxers down and kneels behind the other man, bottle in hand.

Smith scoots forwards, knees pressed against Ross and runs a hand over the other man’s hip, hot breath washing over Ross shoulder as he speaks. “Try and relax.”

Ross’ breaths come in short pants as Smith reaches a hand around to ghost over Ross’ thighs, a small moan escaping his lips.

Firm pressure between his shoulder blades has Ross leaning onto outstretched arms, blushing as he hears Smith make a strained noise behind him.

The pop of the plastic cap causes Ross’ stomach to flip. Smith empties some lube into his waiting hand.

“It might hurt a bit, and it'll be cold no matter how long I warm it up for,” Smith waits for Ross’ nod of approval before circling his finger around Ross’ entrance gently.

Ross bucks his hips away from the feeling, Smith leans closer, his chest pressed to Ross’ back as he snakes an arm around to hold Ross in his hand, hoping the distraction of slowly pumping will make the dark haired man relax.

Smith presses the side of his face to Ross’ skin, one hand wrapped around Ross’ length, the other gently applying pressure to his entrance.

Ross takes deep breaths through his nose, trying to unclench his muscles as pleasure washes over him, Smith’s hand tight around him. A low moan floats through the room as Smith pushes a finger inside.

“That’s it Ross, feels good doesn't it?” Smith asks, voice a breathy whisper.

Ross hisses through his teeth as Smith inserts another finger, a hardly audible ‘fuck’ mixed in with the noise, knees sliding further apart on the bed, urging Smith to continue.

A third finger follows in short order, Ross groaning and pushing back against as the sensations take over his brain, Smith’s fingers working him open with firm movements.

Ross swallows the whine that threatens to escape as Smith removes his fingers, turning his head to see the other man sitting back on his heels, garish red condom packet in hand.

Biting his lip, Ross watches as Smith rolls the thin rubber down himself and get another handful of lube.

Their eyes lock for a moment, blue on blue, but neither says anything. Ross breaks the contact fist, turning to stare at the pillow below his arms.

He feels Smith’s hand on his hip then, and feels the auburn haired man lean down over him, his chest rubbing against his back briefly. “Tell me to stop any time.” He says, and Ross nods, not trusting himself to speak.

Ross stops himself squeaking when he feels the latex press against him, his arms stretching out in front of him, the upper portion of his body connecting with the bed so he can bury his face into the pillow.

Smith’s hands stay around the small of Ross’ back as he pushes into him, agonisingly slowly. Smith unable to hold back the throaty moan that springs from his mouth as he sinks into the other man.

“You good?” Smith asks, trying to control his breathing and fighting against himself to stay still.

“Ye-Yeah, you're just a lot bigger than I remember,” Ross’ breaths are stuttered as he squeezes his eyes shut, yet there's no pain in his voice.

“Everything feels bigger when it’s up your arse mate.”

“You’d know,” Smith could hear the smirk in Ross’ voice, and pushes in a little further, just to get a reaction.

Ross moans in response, pushing back until he is flush against Smith's hips.

“Fuck, Smith.” Ross groans again, voice hoarse. Smith’s hands feel up and around Ross’ shoulders before going back down to his hips.

Smith rocks back on his knees, sliding half out of Ross before easing himself back forwards in shallow thrusts. As he does, he relishes in the cacophony of sounds Ross makes, fluctuating in pitch rapidly as Smith releases his own sounds into the air.

Skin slaps against skin as Smith picks up speed, his grip on Ross’ hip tight as the dark haired man pushes back to the rhythm that has been set.

A litany of nonsensical words spill from lips, shouts taking over the soft music that had been previously forgotten, proving useless as the bed rocked.

“Fuuuuck.” Ross swears into the pillow before lifting his head at the feeling of Smith’s free hand running up his back, resting between his shoulderblades. The heavy weight holding him down as Smith speeds up further. “Yesss” Ross hissed, lost in the other man. “Aleeex”

Something in the way that Ross said his name only makes his movements harsher, his hips snapping forward, burying himself as deep as he can get, before dragging out and taking a deep breath, slamming back in, loving the way Ross’ words slur into one long sound.

Ross struggles to push himself up onto one elbow, a hand reaching between his own legs as Smith’s thrusts became more erratic, shouted expletives mixed with Ross’ name ringing through the room.

Ross’ arm is a blur of movement as he pulls himself to the edge of oblivion, Smith following with a growl, pressing himself flat against the other man, face pressed to Ross’ back as his bones turn to mush and every muscle in his body relaxes.

Smith pulls out, tugging the condom off himself, knotting it to throw into the bin at the side of the bed, collapsing onto his stomach next to Ross who turns his head, smiling shyly at him, their faces only a few inches apart.

“You okay?” Smith asks, eyes darting over Ross’ face.

Ross hums an affirmative noise and presses his lips together before asking the same question back.

Hot breath washes over Ross as Smith sighs a laugh at him. “I’d fucking say so, yeah.”

Ross giggles at him, brain still numb and vacant from his release. “I’m going to be sore in the morning, aren’t I?”

Smith offers him a lopsided smile. “Sore and deliciously flavoured.”

Ross narrows his brows at the other man, nudging him on the leg with his big toe. “Fuck you.”

Eyebrows raise in mock offence. “I think you’ll find that was my job mate.”


	2. Gin and Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second box is selected, alcohol helping the lads loosen up a little before testing begins.

Sunlight floods in through the window of Smith’s room, creeping over every inch of carpet and staining it a bright yellow-white. Through the night, Smith had flipped over and spread his legs, taking up around three quarters of his bed, face leaning unattractively against Ross’ shoulder. Ross on the other hand was reserved in the slither of mattress he had, arms around himself and duvet pulled around his shoulder. 

It's Ross who wakes up first, and grimaces at saliva on his back. He breathes quietly for a moment before turning around and facing Smith, a constant heat behind him. Cautious of how close they were, Ross thought about his actions. Would Smith notice if Ross had turned over in the night, leaving the taller man’s lips on his forehead? Probably. Would that make the situation even worse? Definitely. 

It's with a small grunt that Ross sits up, and feels pain settle in the pit of his stomach, and his ass. He shuffles to the end of the bed and throws his legs over the edge, and stands up. 

He underestimated Smith, last night, he guesses. 

As soon as his feet touch the floor and he stands up, Ross’ knees buckle from beneath him in a reflex of ‘fuck, my ass hurts’ and leave him falling down to the floor, possibly echoing through the house. Ross lands on his knees and has never been more grateful. 

“Mate, you okay?” 

Ross looks up and meets Smith’s half-asleep azure gaze, a lazy smile gracing his face. His hair looks ridiculous. 

“Yeah, just mourning over my ass.” Ross growls. Smith smiles apologetically. 

“Sorry mate. But work’s work.” He says. “Want me to carry you?” 

“Fuck off.” 

Smith smirks at him as Ross shuffles over to collect his boxers from the floor, wincing as he bends down. 

“I need tea.” Ross mumbles to himself, scooping up the discarded and now half empty bottles from the floor at the foot of the bed to take downstairs with him. 

“Two sugars!” Smith calls after him, rolling onto his side so he can slide out of bed. 

The kettle clicks off, the sound of bubbling loud in the silent kitchen as Ross blinks sleepily at the evaluation form in his hand. 

“Are you sure you're alright?” Smith asks as he enters the room, breaking Ross out of his staring contest with the piece of paper with a jolt. 

“What? Uh, yeah. Fine.” Ross answers rather unconvincingly. 

Smith furrows his brows at the other man and makes his way over to stand behind him, hands reaching out to rest either side of Ross’ waist to move him away from the kitchen counter. “Go get a pen, and I’ll do the tea.” 

Ross nods and moves away to rifle through a draw before sitting at the kitchen table as Smith pulls two mugs out of the cupboard. 

The two men fall into silence for a moment, Smith busy making tea as Ross clicks the button on top of the pen over and over. 

“That's really fucking annoying.” Smith says as he places Ross’ mug down on the table. Ross mumbles an apology as Smith takes the seat opposite him and he starts writing. 

“On a scale of one to ten please rate the texture of the below products.” Ross reads aloud, looking up from the paper and towards Smith with the mug in one hand and the sheet in the other. It reminded him of University.

“Ten is ‘silky and/or smooth, and one is probably the opposite.” Ross adds, before sipping his tea, enjoying the heat of it going down his throat. 

“I’d give it a six,” Smith coughs. 

“Smell?” Ross asks tapping his pen against the paper.

“Very strawberry-ish?” Smith asks.

Ross makes a face but starts writing anyway, going through the rest of the questions in quick succession. 

“... Satisfaction.” Ross clicks his pen, and looks up at Smith unsurely. 

“With the products or the act itself?” Smith winked, trying to break some of the tension in the air. Ross only squirms in his seat and taps the pen against his hand. “Well I know you enjoyed the act, was a bit hard to miss your enjoyment as it was being screeched at three hundred decibels.” 

Ross blushed. “You were enjoying it too, you twat! Don’t pile this on me!” 

“Fine, but if old Mrs Nash next door complains about the noise-” Smith teases with a shit eating grin. 

Ross narrows his eyes at the other man for a moment before flicking his eyes towards the clock on the wall. “We’re going to be late for work.” 

\---

“We tested them all, mate,” Smith says, throwing the slip of paper to Trott and rubs his eyes. Trott is bewildered. 

“Already? Jesus.” 

“Told you that we’re good for the job, didn’t I?” 

Trott nods, picking up the paper to slip it into an envelope and placing it in the top drawer of the desk. “Next lot should come in a couple of days, but in the meantime there's another two boxes in the back room that need doing, too.” 

Smith would be a liar if he said he was disappointed. Ross was in the back room, on his phone. Smith goes through, closing the door behind him.

“Anything new come in?” 

“There’s two boxes in here, somewhere, with more to test and some more will be over in a couple of days.” Smith answers. “You that eager to go again?” He asks with a wink, trying to mask his interest in Ross’ answer. 

“Well- Trott did say that we should test every one of them, y’know.” Smith stretches his arms above his head, leaned against the wall like a giant housecat. Ross raises his eyebrows. “Alright.” He shrugs, attention back on his phone so he doesn't have to gauge the other man’s reaction. “Is it always gonna be the same?” Ross asks, not looking up from his phone’s blank screen.

“What do you mean?” Smith asks, pushing off from the wall to rifle through a box in the corner to try and find their next ‘project’.

“I mean- will it always be you, on top of me?” Ross looks up, and coincidently, right at Smith.

Smith smirks. “We can switch it up next time if you want, give that sweet arse of yours a break.”

Ross smirks. “When is next time, though, mate?” He puts a box of oils down to step closer to his friend, who sifts through shipping crates. 

Smith pulls a familiar sized box out the crate and shakes it, his other hand pulling a second box. 

Ross peers at the box that Smith hands him, in favour of flipping the box over to possibly find more.

Smith throws another box in Ross’ general direction. “How long has Trott been recruiting?”

Ross drops the first to the table to catch the second, barely managing to snatch it out of the air before it hits him in the face. 

Smith grins at him as Ross places the second box on the table, pulling his keys out of his pocket, using the edge of his house key to break through the tape. 

\-----

Ross closed the door behind Smith, hanging the keys up next to the row of mismatched Superdry and Topman coats by the door. 

“Fancy a drink before we try these out?” 

“You mean do our work?” Ross smirks as Smith shakes the box around. Smith nods, and hangs his jacket up, kicking off his shoes. Ross looks at him oddly. “Yeah, I'll have a drink.”

Ross kicks his trainers off near the door and walks to the kitchen, snatching glasses out of the cupboards and taking the mostly full bottle of gin from the counter side that he had received a few weeks prior for his birthday.

“What d’you want, mate?” Ross pokes his head up from the cupboard, to see Smith at the table with the two glasses, dragging his finger along the rim and waiting. 

“Whatever you’re having is fine.” Smith says eyeing the gin. “We got tonic?” 

“In the fridge.” Ross says pointing with the bottle before uncapping it and pouring them both generous measures. “Am I so unpleasant that you need booze to fuck me?” Ross jokes, but holds back on smiling. 

Smith frowns. “You aren't unpleasant. And I wouldn't even think of getting in bed with you if I thought you were, mate.” Smith sits opposite Ross, pouring the tonic into the glasses. 

Ross raises his brows but doesn't comment, holding his glass up. “A toast then, to your arse - because it is so your turn to bottom this time mate.” 

Smith laughs, clinking his glass against Ross’ “May tomorrow be painless.” 

\-----

It's later that they decide that undressing each other is much less unsettling than doing it alone, in front of each other. Maybe it was the gin making them do it. Neither man really cared.

“Can I?” Smith asks, licking his lips and sitting in front of Ross’ chest. Ross nods, and smiles when Smith hoists the shirt over his head with clumsy fingers. 

“Chocolate body paint,” Ross holds it up, happily blushing when Smith’s hands stay on his hips. 

Smith smiles at him. “Well, you're the chocolate fiend mate, I guess you get to try this one out, plus I don't really fancy licking it out of that fur.” Smith says running his hand up Ross’ chest. 

Ross smiles. “It's a protective layer,” He supplies as he looks down at his stomach, proudly. 

Smith smirks, following Ross’ line of sight and mumbles something to himself.

“What you saying?” 

Smith bites his lip and looks up into Ross’ eyes, the gin running through his bloodstream making him answer without consideration of how it will be received. “Sexy as fuck is what it is mate.” 

Ross feels heat on his cheeks and smiles reaching for the waistband of Smith’s jeans, using a belt loop to pull Smith flush against him.   
“Does it feel sexy too?” 

Smith hums as his mouth presses against Ross’ shoulder, hands wandering to grasp at the dark haired man’s behind. “Very.” He answers as Ross flicks the button of Smith’s jeans open, pulling the zip down slowly. 

“There's more where that came from,” Ross mumbles as Smith twangs the elastic waistband of Ross’ boxers happily. Ross presses his lips to Smith’s hair gently, and applauds the alcohol's effects. Smith looks up with a grin on his face, and presses up to Ross again once the brunet’s jeans are on the floor, pooled around his ankles. 

“You better not draw a load of chocolate dicks on me.” Smith growls, taking a step back and lifting his arms so Ross can pull his T shirt over his head. 

Ross throws the bunched up fabric to the corner of the room, backing Smith towards the bed. “Well, I hadn’t thought of that.” He admits as Smith shuffles back on the bed. “But I’m gonna now.” 

“Please don't, Ross,” he groans as Ross crawls over him, sitting squarely on his crotch. 

Ross grins down at him, as he uncaps the bottle and shifts hips a little, biting his lip to stop from laughing as Smith groans from the friction. “You’re not the boss of me, mate. I’ll draw whatever i want.” 

“If you can,” Smith giggles, “You can barely walk properly. And if anything you'll draw a blueprint of some marble structure.” 

“Marble structure of a penis.” Ross mumbles. 

Smith laughs louder than he intends, and doesn't care at all. 

Ross pours the stuff directly onto Smith’s stomach in a large puddle, with his index finger he trails it through the brown paste, collecting it on the tip of the digit. 

“Christ that's cold.” Smith hisses. 

“Lie still.” Ross scolds as he starts trailing his chocolate covered finger over Smith’s chest, bottom lip pulled between his teeth in concentration. 

Ross licks at his finger, and raises his eyebrows. “It tastes alright, actually.” 

Smith looks down at the addition to his skin. “I think you’re meant to eat it off me, not your fingers, mate.” 

“Taste it,” Ross pokes at Smith’s lip with his finger. 

Smith raises his eyebrows at the other man before sucking the tip of his finger into his mouth, tongue swirling around the digit to get all of the chocolate. 

Ross licks his lips, and rubs at the slowly drying circle of chocolate on Smith’s chest with his free hand, smearing his drawing into an unrecognisable swirl. 

“It’s not bad.” Smith says after releasing Ross’ finger. 

“Told you.” Ross smiles, before sighing at the mess on Smith’s chest. “I need to lick that off, don't I?” Ross asks, leaning on his elbows. 

“Well, I can't.” Smith grins. 

The first touch of Ross’ tongue is hesitant and gentle as he drags it through the swirl, noting how it seems to turn to liquid upon contact with his mouth. 

Smith squeezes his lips together into a thin line and rolls his eyes upwards. 

Ross smiles against Smith’s chest as he hears the other man take a shuddering breath. Pulling his tongue off the other man he breaths a question against wet skin. “You want some more?” 

Smith opens his mouth, taking a deep breath before answering, “Just keep doing that.”

Ross obliges, tongue moving in firmer strokes as he laps up the body paint. He stops for a second, to actually swallow it, and presses his lips to Smith’s stomach in the meantime. He looks up for a reaction, pleased when he sees Smith’s eyes squeezed closed, head thrown back to lift his upper torso off the bed slightly. 

Ross kisses him again, licking at the paint slowly, Smith’s hands smooth against his shoulders. 

Smith tugs at Ross’ elbow until he looks up, arm moving so he can hover over Smith, their faces only a few inches apart. “What’s up?” Ross asks before licking at some stray chocolate on his bottom lip. 

Smith’s hand trails up from Ross’ arm, over his shoulder to rest on the back of his neck. “I- Fuck it.” He mumbles before lifting his neck off the bed and pulling Ross closer simultaneously to crash their lips together. 

Ross’ eyes close as he lifts his hand up over Smith’s shoulder to rest on his cheek, smoothing into the taller man’s curls, feeling deep breaths against the skin between his lips and nose, tasting nothing but gin, tonic, and chocolate. 

Ross leans them back onto the bed, with Ross’ chest flat against Smith’s as Ross licks at the taller man’s lips carelessly, hands resting either side of Smith’s head. 

The hand in Ross’ hair moves, grasping at the dark haired man’s hip, Smith’s other arm grasps at Ross’ shoulder, and with a grunt into Ross’ mouth, Smith lurches upwards, twisting as his back leaves the bed so their positions are reversed. 

“Thought I was going to be on top this time?” Ross questions, pulling Smith down so he can attack the other man’s neck with firm nips of his teeth. 

Smith grinds his hips into Ross, moaning loudly at the contact. “Was taking too long.” Smith pants out as Ross wraps his legs around Smith’s lower back.


	3. Menthol and Mango

Ross leans against the kitchen table with one hand against the surface and the other cradling a mug of water as he swallows paracetamol. If there was one thing he felt that he could do without, it was the aftereffects of drinking before spending a night doing his and Smith’s nightly job. The only good thing about it was waking up in an unfamiliar yet very comfortable bed, with long arms around his waist. It somehow numbed the headache and the dull pain in his ass. 

He reached behind him to put his cup down and bring the hand up to his eyes. The selling point of their apartment was lots of natural light, which wasn't great for them; as men who were very introverted. It also didn't fit well with Ross’ headache. He barely knew what he was wearing. 

He heard heavy footsteps before he could turn around to blink out the light, and was met by his housemate, who leaned against the wall tiredly. 

“Mornin.” Ross’ voice is dry and deep, and he barely recognises it in his own ears when he picks up his mug and holds it to his lips. 

Smith growls, stretching his arms high above his head. “Morning, mate- you left the bed really cold.” He says, and walks over to stand opposite Ross, bare feet warm against the freezing tiles on the floor. 

“Needed pills.” Ross answers, rubbing at his tired eyes. “You need some?” 

Smith shakes his head. “Just need some tea and I’ll be fine.” 

“I hate you” Ross complains, shuffling over towards the table with his back to the window, hoping that angling himself away from the natural light will ease the pounding in his head. 

Smith nudges the kettle to gauge the amount of water already inside before flicking it on. Ross walks a step to stand beside the taller man and takes a moment to look at him properly. 

Smith’s hair is a mess, for a start. Ross admits to himself that it was his fault; tugging at it and such. He was lucky there were no bald patches, to be fair. His eyes were half closed, skin pale and clammy. His entire body was arched over the countertop, legs crossed over each other. He was wearing Ross’ shirt.  
He suited it. 

Ross downed the rest of the water, placing the mug down gently in front of Smith in a silent request that is answered as the other man pulls a spoon from the drawer and places it in the cup. Ross watches quietly as Smith hums to himself, spooning sugar into the cups. He places the sugar back, and turns his head to regard Ross. 

“You alright?” He asks. Ross nods. 

“Apart from my ass, but I think I'm getting used to that.” 

Smith chuckles at the comment, and the kettle clicks. “All in a night’s work, mate.” 

Ross shakes his head, reaching out to wrap his hand around the door to the fridge to hand Smith the milk. 

\---

After filling the survey, Smith kicks back onto the sofa happily. Ross’ back is arched in a way that probably isn't comfortable and Smith tilts his head. 

“You okay?” He asks, softer than intended, and leans forward to look at the brunet from the side. The man is staring at the coffee table blankly, eyes glazed over. Smith frowns.

“We’re actually… Doing this.” Ross says, uncharacteristically slowly, almost as if in slow motion. He doesn't look up. Smith nods, even though he knows Ross can’t see him.

“Yeah, and?” 

“We’re… You're very casual about this.” Ross finally looks up, the light from the window hitting the left of his face when he looks at Smith. It casts a shadow on the other side, hits heavily on his flat hair and makes it look lighter than ever. Smith marvels at the colours, and nearly forgets the subject. 

“Well, if it came down to having to bang anyone for work, I think I'm fine with you.” He says, then frowns at his own words. “Wait- you know what I mean?” Smith gestures dramatically, eyes screwed up and his top lip poked up into his cheek. Ross chuckles, and holds his mug up to his lips. 

“No I-fucking-dea.” He says, voice echoing into the cup. 

Smith groans. “It would be awkward if we were anything but casual about this, really.” He says, and is pleased with his sentence, this time. Ross taps his fingers against the side of his mug and sits back into the sofa’s cushions, making a face. 

“I mean, if we hated each other, it’d be weird.”

“It's weird already!” Ross retaliates quickly, expression irridiculous. 

Smith frowns. “Not really. What's a bang or two between friends?” 

Ross bites the inside of his cheek, lets it go. “It's… Just the job.” 

Smith nods, and stands up, folding up the survey sheet and walking off to presumably stick it in his coat pocket. 

\---

It had become a routine for them both; get home, eat dinner then do their ‘nightly shift’. And it was always the same, somehow, with Smith taking the upper hand, Ross getting ready and then boom, they got paid. And laid. Win win situation, Smith calls it, flashing a grin. 

It was the longest they had been between, Smith having to go out of town for a few days to help Sips with another one of his ventures leaving Ross to his own devices and having to find something else to occupy his evenings other than the strange ‘overtime’ he and Smith had been engaging in for over a month.

Work was weird without the other man around. Trott often had to go out which left him alone in the shop and so he would have to sit behind the counter and wait for customers or for the phone to ring for something to do. 

So when Smith is back, all Ross wants to do is talk.  
-  
“You’re just jealous because you have the chest of a child’s. I’m manly.” Ross stretches, cricking his neck to the side. Smith notes how Ross’ shirt rides up slightly, and finds himself disappointed when he lowers his arm and his stomach is covered once again. 

“It’s weird, though, why are you so proud about it?” Smith prods. Ross shrugs. 

“Some people think it’s attractive, mate.” 

“How can you find a wonky-diamond of fur attractive?” Smith snorts, and Ross averts his eyes, offended.

“Mate, no, I’m just kidding. It’s nice.” 

“Nice?” Ross asks, raising his eyebrows for Smith to elaborate. 

“It’s- Look, let’s see it for a minute.” Smith says, and tugs at Ross’ t-shirt, despite the flushed look from Ross. It’s a struggle to wrestle it off, and Ross shivers at the lack of heat. 

Ross automatically crosses his arms across his chest for a moment before meeting Smith’s questioning look and dropping them to his sides with a barely audible nervous sigh.

Smith looks down at the large patch of hair and brushes his hand over it fondly. 

“You’re like a big puppy.” 

Ross shakes his head and pulls away, reaching for his shirt. “Fuck off.” He mutters dismissively at what he thinks is more piss taking from the taller man. 

Smith grabs at Ross’ forearm before he can reach it. 

“Mate, just- I didn’t mean it in any harsh way.” Smith says, and Ross’ gaze falters to Smith’s, who holds onto Ross’ arm like it’ll fall off if he lets go. 

Ross drops his stretch and lets his arm fall down again, eyes trained on the other man. “It’s cold, mate.” Ross says breaking the silence that had fallen over the room. 

“There's other ways to keep warm,” Smith murmurs, quietly, his hand falling into his lap. 

Ross lets out an amused breath through his nose. “Missed me that much?” 

Smith smiles softly, and brings his hands up to rest on Ross’ wrists. “In comparison to Sips’ company, you're pretty much God-like, right now.” 

Ross smiles, a small, thin line of pink flesh. He looks up from underneath his dark lashes, eyes a shade darker than usual. Smith feels his gut twist underneath his skin and squirms slightly. “Not much of a compliment that, is it?” Ross says. “Nothing about how much better I am at getting you off or about my - and I quote - ‘killer ass’.” He continues making air quotes with his fingers. 

Smith flushes a deep pink- and is suddenly very aware of Ross’ impromptu confident attitude, and his own slight vulnerability. 

Ross shifts closer to him, hooks a finger into the collar of his t-shirt and pulls him down to whisper into his ear. “We have some work to catch up on,” He pauses a second, to pull back and look Smith in the eye. “Mate.” 

Smith shivers, then, and stares until Ross is stood up and walking out of the room to attempt any kind of movement but it apparently is not quick enough for the other man who calls back from what Smith assumes is half way up the stairs. “You coming, or what?” 

“Keep talking like that and I will be before you've even taken my belt off.” Smith mutters, too quiet for the other man to hear, before shuffling to the stairs. 

From there, all Smith had thought of as their nightly routine had shifted into what he could only think of as a single competition of how forward Ross could be without even touching Smith. As soon as he has caught up to Ross, the room was all but blurred as he was practically pushed- thrown- onto his bed and quickly straddled by the brunet, who had his eyes closed and his hands planted firmly on his shoulders for barely a moment before his shirt was being tugged off over his head. 

Then, there's a slow moment where they look at eachother; Ross propped up with his hands bracing himself beside his thighs, legs crossed and biting at his lip loosely, eyes skimming over Smith’s panting form. Smith is a sweaty mess; hair mussed and matted and eyes half-open, wondering how he had never been faced with this side of Ross’ libido before. How could he be in charge of that? 

“Fuck me,” Smith breathes. 

“Planning on it, don't you worry.” Ross says, and Smith stares, not really sure what to say back to the man looming over him. 

Ross presses his warm lips to the jut of Smith’s collarbone, bites gently at the skin. Smith’s back arches, leaning into the touch happily and trailing a hand down Ross’ chest towards the waistband of his jeans. Ross pulls away so Smith can unbutton his jeans quickly, moving away the offending fabric and throwing it away onto the floor. 

“What box we got?” Smith asks. 

“Something blue, it's just- there.” Ross points to Smith’s bedside table.

Smith shuffles over to the table on his knees, the duvet dipping down and the mattress croaking under his weight. 

“You wouldn't believe how many times Trott’s been bugging me about handing those in.” Ross chuckles as Smith practically rips open the small box, paper and smaller boxes falling onto the plush duvet underneath him as he discards the box onto the floor.  
Smith upturns the box onto the bed, items spilling over the duvet he then throws the packaging into the box and flings it somewhere to his left and off the bed. “Menthol?” Smith commented, looking at the bottle in confusion. “Won’t that hurt?” 

Ross reaches out and takes the bottle from him. “Says it’s meant to be ‘tingly’” 

“I’m not sure I want a ‘tingly’ arse hole.” 

Ross shrugs and snatches up a smaller bottle. “This one is just a mango one.”

Smith quirks his head skeptically. “My vote is on the mango one, mate.” 

Ross nods at him and throws the unopened larger bottle in the direction of the empty box. 

“I mean- are you- who’s on-” Smith struggles to ask, his words cutting over each other with shaken breaths as Ross tugs at his jeans until they too go in the direction of the other discarded items. 

Ross presses forwards, one hand on Smith’s chest to push him down on his back. With one knee either side of Smith’s thigh the dark haired man fists his hand into Smith’s hair to angle his head away, smothering the taller man's neck in open mouthed kisses and hard licks. 

Smith’s moan is caught in his throat as he squeezes his eyes shut, feeling Ross biting and scraping his teeth against his collarbone, his untrapped leg automatically coming up to try and wrap around the other man’s shin in an attempt to press them even closer to each other, if possible. 

“Fucking hell…” Smith’s voice drones, a wave of hot air being huffed against his neck at the exclamation by Ross, smile hidden against skin. 

The hand buried in Smith’s hair releases, and instead falls to the hem of Smith’s boxers, a question in his eyes as he practically hovers an inch away from Smith’s own. 

Smith lets his elevated leg fall to the bed to push his hips away from the mattress so Ross can pull off the offending undergarments without comment. 

Ross pulls his own down once Smith’s have been dealt with, kicking out behind him to get them the last few inches off of his ankles. 

In the couple of seconds it takes for Ross to do this Smith sits up again, but halts when Ross lets out a small hiss. 

“On your back.” His tone is stern, now, and sends a shock down Smith’s spine. 

Smith obeys, wetting his lips as he slowly lowers himself back against the pillows. 

Ross clambers to sit in between Smith’s thighs, for a brief second, and kisses at Smith’s erection. Smith gasps, and then frowns as Ross sits up on his legs. 

Ross sits back on Smith’s thighs and wraps a hand around him, starting off with a few languid, casual strokes. Smith’s already rock hard and practically leaking into Ross' fist. Muscles undulate under the brunet's beautiful pale skin, a sheen already covering his chest and torso. God, he smells like toothpaste and cologne, all mixed in with musk and sex and sweat, and it puts fuel in Smith’s tank like nobody’s business.

Smith wriggles underneath him, trying to get more leverage, more friction, more something.

“You’re not very patient,” Ross remarks, head swimming, words slurring together ever so slightly. 

Smith lets out a breath and pouts up at him, and Ross grins.

“Fucker,” Smith swears when Ross lets him go and rolls off to the side to grab their lube from the duvet. 

And then Ross is struck by an idea.

A brilliant idea.

He sets the lube and condom by Smith's head and rolls over to the other side of the bed.

“Circus acrobatics was not on the job list,” Smith points out.

“Hold your water,” Ross attempts a swipe at him, and misses.

Out of Smith's nightstand he pulls out a piece of sleek black silicone, and he hears Smith let out a frustrated groan.

“You better not be touching yourself, you impatient fucker,” Ross bounces back to him.

“‘m not,” Smith wriggles in his spot, intimidated by the tone. 

“Good,” Ross sticks out his tongue and settles between Smith’s legs, pushing them apart and taking in the amazing sight of his friend all spread out in front of him, so gorgeous and so willing- 

Ross dips down and licks a long, thick line from the base of the auburn haired man’s erection to the very tip, and Smith swears.  
“Gonna come if you don’t stop,” he warns, and Ross backs off.

He grabs the lube and cracks the top, coating his fingers as he flashes Smith another grin. The stuff actually smells like mango. On either side of Ross' head, Smith's legs tremble with anticipation. Damn, if he’s so eager already, how is he going to handle it when Ross is actually buried deep inside of him?

Ross leans forwards, one hand supporting his weight at Smith’s side as he runs the back of his hand up the inside of the other man's thigh. 

Smith has to hold his breath against the sensation, which is somehow both too soft and too much at the same time. “Ross…” Smith grits out with a tone of warning.

“Shh,” Ross replies, “I’m working.”

“Work faster.” Smith whines as Ross’ hand brushes over the tallers erection, before reaching back, further. Smith lifts his hips. Carefully, Ross slides one finger into Smith to the first knuckle.

Even though he isn’t looking, Ross is pretty sure that Smith rolls his eyes. Since he’s so comfortable, the darker haired man slides his finger out and promptly replaces it with two fingers, thrust all the way in, pressing up against that little bundle of nerves inside of Smith. Above him, Smith throws his head back against the pillows and curses, “Fuck.”

“Not so cocky now, are we?” Ross murmurs.

Smith replies, “I don’t know, mate, there’s a lot about this situation that seems cocky to me.”

Ross snorts, grinning against Smith’s thigh before he presses a chaste kiss to the skin there and starts to work his fingers inside of Smith, pumping and scissoring and stretching.

While one hand moves inside of Smith, Ross moves his other to run his knuckles over the length of Smith's erection in a barely-there, teasing stroke. A rumbling whine tears out of Smith’s throat.

“Trott-uh- got us something, mate.” Ross looks over at what he had brought out of the nightstand. “Well, me.” 

Smith is barely coherent enough to register Ross’ words, his head turning to look at the toy a second after Ross finishes speaking. “Trott got you something and not me? That’s just plain rude.” 

“You were away, Smith.” Ross tuts. 

“So I’m left to jack in the shower trying to ignore the sounds of Sips’ snoring whilst you're here replacing me with that thing?” 

“I had to test products, Smith.” Though Ross speaks, he keeps the touch consistent - the hard, strong touches that Smith craves he keeps to inside of him, strumming against his prostate, while the feather-light touches are on his cock, never enough friction for Smith to get what he wants. “And I don't believe that Trott pays you to wank in the shower.”

Ross withdraws to add more lube to his fingers and then presses a third finger in with the other two. He won’t open Smith as much as he’d need to take him, just enough to take the slim vibrator that still sits temptingly beside them on the bedspread. Smith tries to ride into Ross' hand and take him in deeper, but Ross holds him down, using the strength of his arm to keep Smith’s hips pinned.

When Ross is satisfied with the job that he’s done on Smith’s ass, he reaches for the vibrator and gives it a solid coat of the lube, making it slick and shiny and ready to use. Ross teases the head of the toy against Smith's entrance, starting to slip the tip inside and then pulling it out before Smith can get any real satisfaction.

“You’re a cruel man,” Smith complains, and gulps in air when Ross slides the vibrator inside of him, though only to half the length. There, he presses the power button and then opts for the lowest setting. The gentle hum of the toy fills the room, and with it comes a tiny, frustrated whimper from Smith.

“You have to tell me if you want to stop,” he says, and moves to rub a tentative hand over Smith’s thigh.

Smith gives a frantic nod, and with that, Ross pushes the rest of the toy inside his friend. Smith mewls, bucking his hips. 

“Calm down, this is the lowest setting, Smith.” Ross chuckles. 

Smith’s response is a groan that cuts off as Ross turns to the next setting, Smith’s head full of snarky remarks that don't make it past his clenched teeth. He thinks that he hears Ross laugh again, softly, but blames the buzzing in his ears. 

Smith makes a choked, angry sound, which to Ross, translates to ‘more’. Ross reaches over to gingerly brush a hand over Smith’s cock, with a smug smile. 

“What was that, mate?” Ross asks, repeating the movement. 

Smith only makes another tortured sound, teeth gritted and saliva dripping down his chin in a thin line. It catches the light and Ross only grins harder. 

“Didn't quite catch that,” and Ross turns it up a setting, the smile practically splitting his face as Smith’s teeth unclench and mouth opens wide, letting an airy sound out of his throat. 

Smith’s hands fist into the sheets at his sides, knuckles white. “Ross- p-please.” 

Ross’ breath hitches at the intensity in the taller man’s voice, and he quickly frowns again. Clearing his throat Ross locks eyes with Smith. “On your hands and knees.” He orders, slipping the toy back out of his friend. 

The second or two that it takes Smith to shift into his guided position gives Ross enough time to reach back over to the bottle of lube and snatch up a condom, having it half rolled over himself as Smith lowers himself onto his forearms, face almost planted against the pillows. 

Smith was still shivering with the overwhelming want to come, and Ross regarded him with a lip in between his teeth and a new emotion he’d never felt before. Not like this, anyway. With a hard swallow, Ross shuffles over to kneel behind Smith, and, trying not to shake, he slowly pushes a finger back into a Smith. 

“Fuck- Ross- Just-” 

Ross hums in question. “I really thought you had more patience than this, Alex.”

Smith trembles, and - fuck it all- whimpers, pushing himself back against Ross’ hand. 

Ross pulls the finger out, replacing it with a second a moment later. Smith makes a sound like a sob at the short break but Ross is done with waiting, his own need too great to delay further. There's no need for a slow build.

One hand around the base of his cock and the other on Smith’s hip and brushing a thumb over Smith’s freckles in a small back-and-forth motion, before gripping at his hip and pulling him backwards. Smith cries out, clenching his fists in the duvet and burying his face further into the pillow, easing himself back onto Ross with one fluid movement. 

“Holy shit,” Smith gasps, body finally going lax with pure relief as Ross presses the length of his body against him. Ross feels some sort of need to tell Smith that he isn’t supposed to feel so relaxed- that he’s meant to be on edge- but the words die in his throat as Smith leans forwards and slams back against him. 

Ross, rid of his dominant persona, can’t do anything but whine in response. Smith practically fucks himself hard and fast on him, then, the bed springs squeaking loudly in protest, the headboard knocking against the plasterboard wall. All Ross can do is hang on for the ride. 

It’s no surprise that Smith comes first, eyes squeezing shut and nose scrunched up, his fingernails digging into the sheets as he spills over the sheet below him. The colour is high up in his cheeks, his eyes are glazed over and his smile is blissful. Ross thinks he hasn’t seen anything as arousing in his life. God, he looks good like this. 

“You wanna come too?” Smith’s look of bliss is gone and has been replaced by a crooked grin, and Ross nods. 

Smith clenches around him, then, and Ross jerks his hips a few times, eyes practically rolling up into his head as he releases, leaned back and pinning Smith’s legs to the bed as he positions his hips to ride out his orgasm. 

The next breath he lets out feels like it’s the first he’s taken in ages. 

“... Was that… Planned?” Smith laughs. 

Ross, still calming from his own high, lets out a breathy chuckle. They both lie back to catch their breath. Smith threads his sweaty hands through his hair and says, “I guess I liked it, more than I thought I would. I’m not used to being fucked.” 

“Am I even good at that?” Ross asks with a shrug, slurred by exasperation and the buzz from their previous actions. “I mean, I know that not everything works out perfectly, but I just got carried away and-”

Smith smirks. “You can get carried away any time you like, mate.” 

Ross’ face falls slightly, though Smith still smiles. 

“It’s bloody late, Ross. I’m gonna sleep.” Smith announces, before turning around onto his side and tugging on the duvet. “Night, mate.”

“Night, Smith.” Ross’ voice is a rasp and he faces the nape of Smith’s neck. “I’m gonna… Wait here a minute- my legs are a bit stiff.” 

Smith only hums in response, and Ross shifts awkwardly into a laying position, on his side, facing away from the other man. 

Ross’ breathing evens out long before Smith manages to fall to sleep, the bed creaks quietly as Smith turns over to regard the sleeping man with half lidded eyes, deciding that it is too much effort to try and wake him and instead closes his eyes and gives into the overwhelming relaxation.


	4. Announcement

Hi,

I just wanted to let you guys know that this fic will not be updated in future and that I will be orphaning the work shortly. 

If anyone wants to take this up then feel free. 

Regards  
VexedBeverage


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